Plato's Man
by Jean-Andrew Qeqzimateur
Summary: Plato presents his definition for man, but has his hopes smashed to the ground. With a crushed confidence it's good that not all friends are platonic.


It's a day as sunny as can get in Athens and free men of all walks are out practicing their trade. No different are the philosophers and speakers gathering at the Forum. The men sweat and their scent mingles with the Mediterranean breeze. "Well then Plato, how is it that you would define man?" asks a young pupil from his teacher. "In my thoughts I've come to discover that the Idea of man can be outlined by two simple yet defining characteristics. A man is both bipedal and featherless," the teacher explains. A thought so simple yet elusive sinks in quickly. "This truly is so. No other creature shares both." "Well thought, dear Plato!" Plato's peers and pupils cheer, bringing a pleased smile on to Plato's gradually graying, hairy face. An opposite of this would be the face of Diogenes; he can't believe what he's hearing. The crusty cynic storms out, though unnoticed as Plato is doing well in capturing everyone's attention.

The men keep discussing in the musk of the forum. It's been a while now and they were about to call it day, when the men hear a man shout: "Here!" It was Diogenes holding a plucked chicken. "This is Plato's man!" Diogenes shouts and throws the chicken in front of the men with a loud smack. The bare chicken's skin glistens in the sunlight and the shocked men turn to the baffled Plato: "This is a vulgar display but Diogenes has a point," Adelphos points out. "Indeed Plato! Is there a difference or would you invite this bird to your house as a guest?" Ah yes, irony; something that Plato didn't miss about his past master Socrates. Diogenes sneers pleased at the ruckus he's caused, revealing a row of dirty teeth and leaves.

Plato was left, like he'd been struck by lightning. He was certain that there was something he could've said, something he could've added to retort but he had nothing. He picked up the chicken and examined it intently: Bipedal and featherless. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Don't let him get to you," the owner of said hand, Aristotle, consoles. "He's like Socrates gone mad that Diogenes," Plato laments. "He's always so dramatic. Were he not a tramp, he'd make a great actor. Now come on, that discus is not going to throw itself," Aristotle says and the two men leave for the sporting field.

Plato was troubled, this reminded him too much of how Socrates used to refute his claims. Had he never left his master's shadow? Plato tried and tried during the course of practice, but his thoughts always came back to Diogenes and Socrates. The mixture of sports and absent mindedness didn't go well and he tripped in midst of throwing discus. He made it back home chicken still in hand and pondered. What is it that differentiates between a man and a plucked chicken? Surely Diogenes wouldn't go through the trouble of claiming a chicken just to rub it in everyone's face, though then again it is Diogenes. Plato decides to confront him at his barrel on the edge of town.

"Diogenes, I believe I have something of yours," Plato asserts firmly to the Barrel Philosopher. "If it's about that 'man' then sod off. I do not take slaves," Diogenes barks back. The sun is going down and Plato looks at the loner in the barrel. He's not as athletic or as well fed as the other men and hair and dirt cover this ragged man. His eyes reminded Plato of Socrates, though his form was more feminine. As aggravating as Diogenes was, Plato had to admit that he was attracted. "I was thinking of your gesture at the Forum, so I came to ask how you would define man," Plato replied and held on tightly to the chicken he'd been carrying all day. "By something which I wouldn't find in poultry, though they are very easy to mistake for a man," Diogenes replies. "Humph, I'd suggest you to refrain from mockery or you'll soon find a man somewhere you wouldn't like," Plato retorts without thinking. An awkward silence fell like a weight. "A-are you suggesting what I believe you just did?" Diogenes asks in disbelief. "What? No! Yes, maybe! I don't know!" The normally well spoken Plato mumbles defensively. "Hahaha! There's no need to be ashamed. We're both men aren't we? Come hither Plato and I'll show you how the cynics do it! Oh and don't forget your little friend," Diogenes heartily invites the beet red Plato and beckons the chicken too.

"This manner of soliciting doesn't seem like you," Plato says as the two men rub each other's chests. "You seemed like you needed it," Diogenes replied. "I heard you like feet. Do help yourself," Diogenes says and lends over his hooves. "How did you know?" Plato asks in disbelief, fixated to the presented feet. "Let's just say that you're not the only one having a bit of man to man fun with your pupils," Diogenes explains smiling devilishly at his mesmerized partner. It was true that Plato did indeed like feet and these were a very special pair. Plato rubbed the feet and smelled the feet. Diogenes had been traveling all over bare footed and it shows. They were rugged and had smells from all over. It would've been a shame if cynics were to wash more often. The flat nails weren't trimmed and it was ecstatic. Plato couldn't take it any longer; his member was like a throbbing Corinthian pillar reaching for the sky. Plato squeezed the feet around his battle ready hoplite and for a while the composition looked like a pulsating gyro sandwich from which the tzadziki sauce then squirted to Diogenes' tan skin.

"Heh, it looks like you're forgetting someone," Diogenes says and picks up the plucked chicken that was there as if she'd been watching. Bending over and handing the chicken to Plato, Diogenes says: "Would you introduce this fellow to my rectum?" Plato, exhausted from his previous activity, takes the chicken by the neck and squeezes its head through Diogenes' sphincter and gives it a few pushes: "That's quite enough of that," Diogenes declares and turns around grabbing Plato's shoulders. With a quick twist Plato is the one bending over and taking it in the posterior. A joker might remark that where Plato likes cock, Diogenes prefers an entire hen. The two men lie down next to each other, panting and fall asleep.

Plato wakes up and finds Diogenes' arm wrapped around him. "Have you found a new definition for man?" Diogenes asks. Plato ponders for a while and then remembers Diogenes' feet. "I feel silly not having noticed such an obvious thing before." "And what may that be?" Diogenes further interrogates. Plato gives a euphoric smile and says: "A man is bipedal, featherless and has flat nails." Plato wraps his clothes back on, says goodbye and leaves with his confidence returned. However what Plato misses is Diogenes swearing loudly and flailing about with a chicken up his arse.  
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Author's notes: So yeah, this is my debut: A smutty piece about ancient Greek philosophers. I had fun and I hope someone out there has fun too and/or gets off on this. If you're wondering about who on earth Adelphos is, it's just a name I picked out from a Greek baby names list.


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